


Poker Night

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Chocolate, Community: st_xi_kink, Drunkenness, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-29
Updated: 2009-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Starfleet personnel (who are not used to life on the Enterprise, so there's your problem) might think it's weird for a command staff to casually eyefuck their Captain and watch the CMO make out with the Commander right in front of his girlfriend (who just enjoys the show, anyway), but hell, even Spock gets tipsy at the Enterprise's poker night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poker Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a misplaced comment at st_xi_kink, which was: "This needs to continue. Oh so very *ace*, dear." I've never seen so much misplaced commentfic as on that meme, but what the hell. Got some casual sexuality, a striptease and a drunk Spock out of it, so all is well.

"All right, captain, I admit it," Uhura announced, smiling broadly, in such a good mood that she barely even put a mocking emphasis on his rank. She crossed her ankles primly in front of herself, preening in a uniform whose zipper was no closer to coming down than it had been at the beginning of the night. Over her shoulder, Spock smirked in his non-expression way. "This is the best idea you've ever had."

Around the table, players in various states of undress looked down at the four of a kind Uhura had just revealed, rechecked their own hands as if the cards they were holding might have miraculously changed in the interim (as drunk as Bones, Jim and Sulu were, it was entirely possible), and then directed a host of filthy glares in Jim's direction.

"Four aces and a king? I call bullshit," McCoy complained. Clumsily trying to remove his undershirt without putting down the drink in his hand, it took a few near-spills for him to come up with the idea of finishing his shot first. Then he proceeded to tug off the shirt, the now-empty glass still in his hand no longer posing a threat.

"On the contrary, Doctor McCoy," Spock said carefully, and paused a moment to nibble another bit of chocolate off his bar, the Vulcan equivalent of nursing a drink. "Nyota's victory was entirely fair, I assure you, as I have seen every card in her hand. She has commurdered-- co-- committed no bullshit."

The entire table cracked up at once, then broke into a fresh wave of laughter when Sulu accidentally snorted his drink up his nose.

"I _like_ this ship," beamed Scotty. He was entirely naked and quite happily draped over Chekov's shoulder, looking far too proud of himself for the rubbish hand of cards he held. The young navigator's expression was a nearly identical mix of giddy contentment and self-satisfaction, though considering that Chekov was second-most-clothed after Uhura, the sentiment was justified.

Jim eyed him closely. Smug sneaky Russian bastard was counting cards. Hadn't even had the decency to deny it!' _Counting cards was inwented in Russia, captain_.' Of course.

"Pour us another one, then, lad," Scotty slurred, pushing his shotglass in Chekov's general direction. Chekov obliged with another splash of the vodka he'd been drinking all night, shot for shot with Scotty.

"You are _wery_ inebriated, Monty," Chekov said amusedly. "I tell you Russian wodka is the best. Anybody else?"

"Pass it around," Jim ordered.

"You'll need it," snarked Uhura. "I believe your underwear is coming off now, captain."

Jim stuck out his tongue at her, throwing his three of a kind back at Spock to be shuffled and re-dealt. He stood from the table carefully, wobbling only for a moment when he got tangled in the pants he'd forgotten to kick off from his ankles earlier. Oops.

Behind his hand, Sulu stifled what Jim believed was correctly identified as a sporfle.

"Something, Mr Sulu?" he demanded, tipping his chin up stiffly. Except, ooh, dizzy-- maybe not a good idea. Now there were two Sulus sporfling at him.

Maybe it was more like a lawl. A lorfle?

"I believe Mr Sulu is readd-- reacting to the fascinating pattern of your undergarters, captain," Spock said helpfully. Jim squinted at his first officer for a moment, then smirked when Nyota took the chance to delicately lick melted chocolate off the Vulcan's fingertips. Spock's ears turned very green.

"Choo-choo trains," Bones muttered, shaking his head. "Oh, Jim."

"You think they're fascinating?" asked Jim, raising an eyebrow at Spock from across the table.

Spock turned a little more green and raised one back.

Oh, that was just it. It was _on_.

Kicking his pants more over into the pile of Sulu's clothes, Jim turned so that his back was to the table. "Take note, Mr Spock," he threw over his shoulder, slowly sliding his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. "As a science officer, it's your job to observe things very _carefully_."

Jim rocked his hips side to side slightly, shimmying his boxers down in teasing increments. In the sudden silence behind him, somebody coughed, and somebody else made a slick wet sound that Jim really wished he knew where it came from. Hoarsely, Spock replied after a moment, "I am indeed, captain."

Now swivelling his hips in a slow circle, Jim bared the top of his ass crack, sliding one thumb over to dip down it for a moment, momentarily fondling what was still hidden behind the elastic waistband. Chekov cursed softly-- Jim knew it was Chekov, the Russian gave him away. Another obscene sucking noise sent a shudder down Jim's spine.

Jim's head fell back and his eyes drifted closed as he found his rhythm, undulating his entire body fluidly several times. He knew what it looked like, the ripple that travelled from toes to bared throat, the sinuous curve of his lower back that thrust his ass out, boxers sliding lower and lower with each liquid arch of his body. Someone didn't bother to stifle their low groan of appreciation, making a prickle of warmth run through Jim's insides.

Finally, with a last salacious roll of his hips, Jim rose sharply up onto his tiptoes, jackknifed over and let his boxers fall completely, whispering around his ankles with perfect timing that left his ass suddenly bare and flexed taut with the strain of the position, tight pale globes thrust up for his audience's stunned viewing.

"...Fascinating," Spock said softly, breaking the hush.

"Yeah," breathed Sulu.

Pink-cheeked (it was from the momentary headrush of bending over, that was _all_ ), Jim straightened up and tossed his discarded boxers into Sulu's pile of clothes with an air of great dignity.

"I expect to not find those missing when I go to get dressed again, Mr Sulu," Jim said sternly as he sat down. Sulu only nodded, still slightly open-mouthed. There was a funny, faraway look in his eyes that suggested his brain's vacation spot was full of extremely nice things, indeed.

"I love this ship," Scotty said thickly, suddenly rubbing at his suspiciously misty eyes. "You lads are just-- and the lass, o'course-- just full o' all kinds 'a wonderful-- sandwiches an' sex an'... an' things-- an' it's just like-- like-- a bloody wonderful place, you are."

Chekov hugged him tightly, while from Scotty's other side even Uhura leaned in to wrap an arm around the engineer for a moment, grinning. Jim gazed fondly at them for a long time, drinking in the sight and realising again just how fucking much he loved his crew.

"This poker night _needs_ to continue," Sulu announced firmly, set down his drink, and nearly fell out of his chair as he fumbled his way into the hug. Mostly it just involved draping his arms over Chekov and snuggling his head into his friend's neck with a vague, happy hum.

He fucking _loved_ his crew. _So_ much. Loved them all.

Then there was another of those wet slurping sounds, and Jim's attention was instantly drawn.

"Bones!" he yelled delightedly, after a moment of shocked gaping. "You sly devil!"

Two of Spock's long fingers in his mouth, Bones was too busy fucking his tongue between them to reply to Jim's catcall, except to raise the middle finger on one of the hands he had wrapped around Spock's wrist. Brilliant flares of green highlighting the elegant slope from his eartips to high cheekbones, Spock was sitting rigidly still in his seat, eyes hooded, his breath coming in shallow, silent gasps through barely parted lips.

Another ripple of yelps and whistles went around the table at the sight. Jim was absolutely certain that he wasn't alone in the pang of arousal that went straight to his very not-covered-up-by-anything dick.

Finally, Bones lifted his head and let go of Spock's fingers with a wet _pop_ , his lips shiny with spit. He licked them reflexively. "Too much damn chocolate on your hands," he announced bluntly. "No sense in lettin' it all go to waste."

"I believe your blood acla-- alcalha-- liquor content is ap-- apogee p-point zero one six eight three, Doctor McCoy," Spock said with difficulty, still not moving a muscle except to curl his glistening fingers in slightly.

"I believe it is," McCoy agreed. "And I believe you should shut up and eat your damn chocolate, you pointy-eared, uh-- pointy-eared..."

"Green hobgoblin," Jim said helpfully.

"He likes it even better if you suck on those," Uhura smiled at McCoy.

"I thought so," the doctor nodded, fishing for another few drops of brandy in his glass. "You should do that, next time."

"There was no chocolate on my ears," Spock protested faintly.

"They're very lickable anyway," Uhura assured him with a faint, catlike smile. "Deal again, dear?"

It took everyone at the table a long moment to process the fact that she was talking about the cards neatly shuffled in front of Spock.

"Oh," Jim said blearily, "yeah."

"Right," added Sulu dazedly.

"I was thinkin' you could just go on wi' yer fun," Scotty suggested tipsily.

Uhura smiled broadly as Spock began to deal the cards. "Maybe not tonight."

Jim's eyes were drawn like magnets to the deft, smooth motions of Spock's fingers as he sent cards flying, skimming perfectly across the table to each player despite the fine tremor still present in his hands.

"Well, there's always next week," Jim murmured, and picked up his hand.


End file.
